I Loved You First
by Andyka1895
Summary: Jim Carter and Phyllis Logan think, Carson fell in love first. So, do I. Mr Carter had been calling for their romance for years. In this Collection Of Oneshots I try to explore Carson's affections towards Mrs Hughes during the years they spent together. Thanks my lovely beta for help. I own nothing. The characters belong to Julian Fellowes.


**The Sparkly-Eyed Housekeeper**

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Butlers and housekeepers were always unmarried or at least widows. It was an old and unwritten code. Charles had never wondered why or whether it was fair. Simply, it was supposed to be that way, according to the traditions back then. Charles Ernest Carson had never questioned the nobility of his employers. Of course, he wasn't blind, he was very aware of the existence of families where certain things happened behind locked doors… but the Crawleys were different. He had never, never been disappointed in them.

When he left the halls, and went into service again, he knew he was going to make sacrifices. He had to give up even the thought of having his own family. After Alice, he didn't even mind it – he had always known that women were ruthless, but he didn't think he could find the evidence in his own sweetheart. He worked his way up to be a butler and twenty years later he could dance the first waltz with the Dowager Countess – when she was the lady of Downton.

At the age of thirty-nine he was considered quite young for being a butler, so he didn't umbrage at the pieces of advice the housekeeper, Mrs Stevens, gave him. She could perfectly keep the balance, she could help back him without crossing the line, querying his power or his existence as the head of the staff.

They hired a new head housemaid that year. She might have been in her thirties, just like Charles, and although she wasn't, what they called, spectacularly beautiful in appearance, she had something which made him incapable of taking his eyes off of her. Despite the fact, that she was the head housemaid and, in a way, supposed to give orders to the other housemaids, she seemed to be uncertain, almost shy. Maybe she was a kind, young woman – he had never had a proper conversation with her –, but she obviously lacked of the devotion and intrepidity which was the second nature to a real servant. He couldn't judge her work, since Mrs Stevens was in charge of the female staff, but he didn't hear any complaint about Elsie. Honestly speaking, he couldn't deal with her mood swings. She often seemed to be that she was miles away. Behaved as a small, weak shadow, a ghost, but a head housemaid was supposed to be forceful and strong-minded. Other times she was jolly and light-hearted, he had even caught her humming to herself once or twice. Charles noted to himself that her mood swings had something to do with the letters she would receive. She would bit her lip those times and was visibly lost in her thoughts. Mrs Stevens those times gave her a sympathetic smile.

"How is Elsie doing, Mrs Stevens?", Charles asked one night while they were drinking their usual cup of tea. "It's not my place to interfere in your job, but I don't think she's cut out to be a housemaid.", he said to the housekeeper.

"She had an outstanding reference, Mr. Carson, and she's been working here for only a month. She may be badly affected on changes, but she is a good girl. She has to grow accustomed to the new place with new people.", Mrs. Stevens told him with a small smile.

"But she is not a 'girl', as you said it. She is a grown-up woman, at about five years my junior. She may be hard-working and keen, but she is as sheepish as a tweeny*.", he told her sternly.

"Oh…", Mrs Stevens frowned, "Do you think it'd be enough to sack her?"

"Of course not, Mrs Stevens.", he said a little shocked. "But with that nature, she can keep her position as a head housemaid, at best. Well, she may be an acceptable lady's maid or a housekeeper for…", Charles snorted disapprovingly, "for a lawyer… or a merchant… provided those kind of people need a housekeeper. I doubt she could make a career in later life.", he said without knowing that things would change in the future.

Ten years later he addressed Elsie as _Mrs Hughes_. Charles – as so many times earlier – proved himself successfully, that he is a terrible judge of character. In his defense, he had to mention that Elsie's behavior and attitude have changed in the next months. It had something to do with her correspondence. He had always respected others private sector, but Elsie had received letters at least once a week. Suddenly it stopped. On that particular day when he started the conversation first. They happened to go to the village together to enjoy their day-off… separately, of course. He was driven into a corner. He wondered about the propriety of the butler escorting the head housemaid. It would be beneath his dignity and give reasons for gossiping. On the other hand, it would show ill-breeding on his part, if he tried to get out of her way, knowing they were going to the same place and leaving at the same time. The silent was so awkward and uncomfortable, he had to open his mouth. Anyway, what could he talk about with the head housemaid? They might have found a common topic, which could break the ice between them, but wasn't personal enough to break the line between them, but Charles was unavailable to evocate it. The only thing he remembered was her look. She had a radiant smile and stunning blue eyes, even _he_ couldn't get away without admitting it. Those eyes, which sometimes sparkled as stars and sometimes expressed ineffable misery, were emitting desperation and willpower that afternoon. Charles couldn't conceive the feeling that overcame him, when he looked into her eyes, but something has changed there and then.

He had been keeping an eye on her for the next days. From day to day her features hardened, her face became somehow strict and determined and her whole figure was occupied by that kind of hustle and dignity which, as Charles thought, was necessary for a head housemaid hoping to be a lady's maid or a housekeeper one day. Yes, from that day, Charles was sure that the head housemaid fitted there. However, he had to acknowledge with disappointment, that _Elsie_ didn't look sparkly-eyed anymore.

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"Mrs Hughes goes out for one night and we all fall to pieces!", he almost shouted in frustration while he left from the kitchen.

They were late. Of course, Mrs. Hughes was having fun somewhere in Downton village while they were having a little trouble with the dinner. Still, it would be unfair to blame her. He was the one who told her to go and that they would be fine. She worked very much, but she had such little time for herself. " _It's a long time since you last took a night off._ " _,_ As if Mrs. Hughes would have anticipated the future, she offered to stay. _"You don't think I ought to stay, do you?"_ , she asked him ready to take off her coat and continue working. " _Go._ ", he insisted without wanting to acknowledge that she was a valuable head of staff.

By the way, if a household falls to pieces without the housekeeper's presence, it's certainly not her fault. When Charles was a younger butler, he could always manage without Mrs Stevens, albeit he was much more inexperienced then. There was something unnatural in depending on the housekeeper. It was the failure of the butler, of _his_ failure. It denoted his lack of organizational skills, if he didn't find his place without his colleague. Perhaps he made his first mistake, when he asked about her point of view in almost everything before he made a decision. He needed to hear her approval during the time they spent together with the company of a cup of tea or a glass of sherry. He was the head of the staff after all, he shouldn't count on the housekeeper's opinion for every little thing. But she wasn't only the housekeeper, she was Mrs. Hughes. Although, they worked together very well and made a very good duo as heads of staff, their personalities were almost completely different. He found it useful to see the other side of the coin. A fine leader, a fine butler, during giving orders, always kept the greater good in his mind, and didn't use his power to flatter his own vanity. And every time he looked into her eyes, he noted with pleasure that her gaze mirrored his. Stoic, objective, wasn't leaded by her own feelings, but pragmatism and sanity. Nothing about caprice, just strict work ethic.

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"How was your night off, Mrs. Hughes?", he asked the next morning during breakfast.

"Very nice, thank you, Mr. Carson.", she answered with a small smile. Her night off may be nice, but she wasn't very well that morning. She was like a weak shadow. There wasn't even the trace of the strong, self-confident Mrs. Hughes. He caught her wandering downstairs without concrete purpose. When he talked to her, she asked him to repeat his thoughts. Her eyes had changed. They sparkled like stars. Charles was the one who told Thomas off for calling her "sparkly-eyed". A footman couldn't talk about the housekeeper in that manner. But Charles had to admit willy-nilly that Thomas was right. He had been the butler in Downton Abbey for almost twenty years, he could easily make out that symptom. He called it the "sparkle of doubting". Sparkly-eyed servants mostly gave their notice in, in order to marry and move away. Suddenly, he realized something and his heart filled with disappointment. Mrs. Hughes was the perfect servant in his eyes, who was devoted to her job. Charles had never been called a liberal in his life, and he didn't intend to start in the future. He rolled his eyes at the suffragettes who claimed vote and equality and other unthinkable things for women. But even he had to acknowledge that a woman, like Mrs. Hughes, who had a respectable position, possessed much more opportunities than a wife who was expected to obey her man. Mrs. Hughes must be in love, if she was disposed to give up her career, salary, and independence for a fellow. Not that it was his business…

Charles secretly wished that he would be the one who exerted such an influence on her. But he knew she had never looked at him that way. Her eyes radiated fondness and respect towards him, but it didn't even approach that suppressed affection he had for her. And while Mr. Carson, the butler ought to keep Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper at an arm's length, while Mr. Carson was aware of the fact that a dalliance would only destroy both their career and self-respect, Charles, who Mr. Carson turned to after he closed his bedroom's door, could abandon himself to the way how Mrs. Hughes' hips swayed when she went up the stairs, to the fantasy how her hair smelled. Charles often wondered if he could wrap his palms around her slim waist and how soft her neck's skin might be under that bloody high collar.

Neither love nor attraction was a sin, until it turned into action. God created man to love. If he only thought of it, it wasn't a sin. That's why he couldn't understand Thomas. He was enlightened about the fact that there were men and women who felt something disturbing and unnatural towards their own gender. You couldn't blame them for it. Who on the Earth wanted to live with such foul thoughts? However it wasn't an excuse for not repressing that defectiveness. There were rules in that society and life which concerned everyone. And for a servant, ignoring their own petty feelings and self-control were essential.

For people in domestic service these feelings meant different things. If he would be in love with Mrs. Hughes, he could grasp it only as a fact. Yes, people did fall in love, did have crushes, and it appeared in the most unexpected situations. Novels, poems, and plays overrated that kind of affection, especially when you fell for the wrong person. One-sided, unrequited love is the object of mockery in comedies and the reason of the fatal act in tragedies. They made a raw, committed suicide and adultery, didn't eat, didn't sleep, made a fool of themselves, dwelled too much on uncontrollable things – just like he had done in the case of Alice. Love is the part of life as much as eating, sleeping, or working… only fools let themselves be overcome by this feeling. We must swallow the bitter pill, collect ourselves, move on, and do our duties. Because there were rules in a servant's life.

Even if he was sweet on Mrs. Hughes, he would never be able to show or declare it. Partly, because it was forbidden, and partly because there wasn't a point about it. If she didn't feel the same way, she would probably do everything not to hurt him and make the situation less awkward. But their relationship would never be the same. If she requited his love, it would be unbearably painful for both of them. Marriage for servants, particularly for the senior staff, was unacceptable. If servants tied the knot, they had to leave service. Mostly they were forward-thinking and collected enough money to start a new life. Not a completely content, but a suitable life. Charles was too used to his lifestyle and set in his ways to accept such a radical turn. What could he do outside Downton Abbey? He could use his knowledge about decanting wine, overseeing the dining room, and maintaining the cellar as a butler, but would fail in real life. And the last thing he would do is to ask Mrs. Hughes… which no respectable man would do with a respectable woman.

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He couldn't help, but felt that ache pressing his chest, while Mrs. Hughes was talking about an old flirt whom she had fun with. He heard her out, because he had to hear her out. She had asked him to stay, because she had had _something_ to talk about with him. If he had known that her _something_ was her _fancy man,_ he would have found an excuse to get away with that conversation. The last thing he wished to hear was that another man had taken an interest in her, let alone its details. However, there was no escape now... it would be rude to catch her up, stand up, and leave her sitting-room. It didn't matter, how much he wanted it.

He rested his left hand on his knee, and he elbowed with his right arm on her table. He could say only one flighty sentence. _"Go on."_ The pressure on his knee tightened and he resisted clenching his fists on his right hand. He hoped that his face didn't show any kind of feeling, grief, or disapproval.

A farmer? Would Mrs Hughes really be able to choose a farmer over Downton Abbey? He hadn't seen much of them in his life, but in his eyes every farmer was the same.

"And he was horrible and fat and red faced, and you couldn't think what you ever saw in him."

As the words left his mouth, he knew he had said too much. He didn't dare to look at her. He would die of shame, if she saw through him. Mrs Hughes denied nothing. Yes, maybe that farmer wasn't as attractive as he used to be, but it didn't change her thoughts on him. Charles didn't understand why she was beating around the bush now. She had always worn her heart on her sleeve, she had never been famous for wiggling.

"And he proposed again… and you accepted?" He had to look up, he had too see her eyes. They didn't sparkle. They expressed sadness, maybe she was fighting with tears.

But _Mrs Hughes_ didn't look sparkly-eyed.

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 **Hope you like it. I'm not sure, I'll continue it. Thanks for my lovely beta, evachrisovitsanousweety :)**

 ***tweeny or between maid: A female junior domestic worker. She had to answer to the butler, the cook, and the housekeeper.**


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